Of Better Times
by andyandrew1313
Summary: A compilation of memories from Samael's point of view. Content ranging from K-M. [ABANDONED]
1. Don't Run

It was difficult for Samael to concentrate on the mundane tasks of running a school with the recent events swimming through his mind. His eyes would glaze over as he stared down at the imposing paper work that piled on his wooden desk and it'd only be a few moments before faded, distorted memories flickered in his view. The mansion was silent, for once; void of his pestering younger brother, questioning servants, or wandering familiars. And, usually, his mind matched this atmosphere, even through the times of chaos and disorder. But tonight, the pale moon's ominous face hung high in an ocean of twinkling eyes that ever watched, seemingly fixed down upon him as though Heaven, itself, judged his thoughts.

Samael was bitter, for it was not every century he recalled memories of Gehenna. Nor was it a coincidence that this century's lamenting was triggered just a few hours after encountering his one and only elder brother. Or, could he even call him 'elder'. It was an age old question that even they two had debated together. That thought set a spiteful smile on Samael's lips and, at last, he set down the fountain pen that had been held in his gloved hand despite any progress made on the mundane tasks he had sat at this desk to do.

Sitting back heavily in his large, cushioned chair, Samael's arms rested on the sides as he spun gently around to gaze unseeingly through the window that covered nearly the entire wall behind his desk. A beautiful view, it was; this office being on the third floor of his mansion, and the window being so wide, one could see the tops of all the trees that surrounded the forest of the True Cross Academy from here. But it wasn't the view Samael looked out upon tonight. Emerald eyes glazed once again as he willingly succumbed to the memories that filled his mind like torn and stained photographs mixed with warped and tainted voices as though an ancient record covered in dust played on a bumpy track.


	2. Bitter Sympathy

_When Gehenna was more known by the name of 'Hell' and comprised of only one circle which homed the royals, fallen, and condemned._

A thousand years passed and yet the scars on Samael's back burned just as they had the day God had ripped his wings from his shoulder blades; the mental scars of first God's abandonment and then the absence of God's forgiveness causing an unparalleled flood of regret, hate, bitterness, and dejection to ebb and flow through his mind. The other fallen had begun their new life in Hell, following and obeying Satan devoutly, and though Samael was not alone, his kin surrounded him at all turns, loneliness plagued him like an ancient disease with a cure long lost to civilization. The only soul to ease this pain was his brother, the only other Archangel to have fallen by his side; Lucifer.

They had been close in Heaven; inseparable, for a very good reason. God had created the pair uniquely. The Archangel of Divine Light and The Archangel of Death; God's right and left hands, cut of the same cloth that threads through every soul. A deeper connection boded between them than that of being physical twins, for it was not their bodies that were in likeness, but their very essence. They did not have to speak to understand, use their eyes to see, touch to feel. Their sixth sense was that of each other and it was natural; no practice was needed, no communication required to comprehend. It was much more than that they were brothers, that of which they now say in this current age. They are one in the same soul.

It was well known about Pandemonium, the castle built by the fallen on the damn'd night, to leave Samael well enough alone these passed thousand years, though there weren't many with rank high enough to think of speaking with him. The royal line composed of only Samael, himself, Lucifer, Satan, and Satan's wife, Lilith. The fallen where low Angels who, even in Heaven, were below Samael and Lucifer; likened to the condemned of Hell without the accompany of sin. Hell had become a twisted guise that mirrored Heaven in appearances, save for the unforgiving hard ground and ever sounding screams of torment if one wandered far enough away from Pandemonium, which no one in their right mind would do. The lower Demons, as they were now called and damn'd with the name, lived to serve Satan, and Lucifer and Samael left that well enough alone for now.

Lucifer, himself, did not weep over the fall; he did not lament as Samael did for he made his choice willingly and knowingly so. Samael fell for Lucifer, for they were two halves of a whole and Samael felt as though he had no choice. With that thought of sympathy tainting his tongue, Lucifer consoled Samael the best he knew how, but that was a difficult feat when Samael would not allow himself forgiveness even if it could be had.

Samael spent his time alone, locked away in what space he claimed his own in Pandemonium while Lucifer spent time mostly with Satan and Lilith. Nightly, the two met to speak, or to not speak; to communicate in their own ways.


	3. Face to Face

The sun fell on Earth's horizon as the moon rose to shine among the lights, and though Gehenna could not see this happening, the inhabitants were well aware of the coming night. Candles were dimmed and lanterns were hung on walls as the industries settled and came to a close; Pandemonium's staff bustled about, closing windows, sweeping floors, and storing untouched food. Though it'd only been a thousand years, Gehenna was well into a routine now; one that would mirror Earth much more than Heaven, an irony no one would realize for many millennia. While they all went about this clock work, Lucifer and Samael began their own.

Sensing Lucifer's presence approaching, Samael looked to the door expectantly. He did not wipe his teary eyes or fix his disheveled hair, for Lucifer had seen him at his best and worst; there was no need for appearances between them when their very souls were bared to each other at all times. Lucifer did not knock on the heavy wooden door, it was unnecessary for he could hear Samael's thoughts; they welcomed him, grateful for the nightly company as every night before.

Looking up at the ever stoic Lucifer from his position curled at the corner of his bed, Samael gave a weak smile, his common place thoughts of regret and misery pushed to the back of his mind momentarily to make room for fleeting happiness and welcoming. In return, the edges of Lucifer's lips curled slightly, the most of a smile anyone could ever receive from him, as he crossed to sit silently on the opposite side of Samael's bed.

It was rare for the two to speak aloud to each other; it was unnecessary. The only times they would do so would be in public, when there would be a third party listening, or when they would tease and play or argue. In quiet, pleasant times like this when all was well, voices weren't required for thoughts said much more than lips could ever.

Face to face in their Angelic vessels granted to them as Archangels from God, Himself, a silence that would nerve those lesser than the two filled the room. Samael's thoughts of happiness, welcoming, and content began to subside, as they usually did; his smile fading quickly to a line, then to a trembling frown. Lucifer's thoughts were well trained and kept on the silence his lips gave, a talent Samael expressed jealousy of ages ago. The Fallen Light watched with pity as his other half began to crumble before his eyes. Lucifer expected it, it was no surprise to either of them, but Samael hated it, nevertheless. Apologetic thoughts swarm Lucifer's mind from Samael's as the latter curled further into himself, long, elegant black hair shivering down as his head fell, adverting his equally coal black eyes. It was a needless gesture, apologizing, and Lucifer quickly brushed it away.

It might've seemed cold of Lucifer to simply watch as Samael sobbed; not speaking or moving to console him, but that was the way Lucifer was, and Samael accepted it. It was enough that they were together, two halves united in proximity. The only comforting expression Lucifer could give to Samael's mental wailing of misery would be to acknowledge how he felt; and that's all that Samael would ask. The night was spent this way, the hours passed with only the sound of Samael's sobs and sniffling with the back drop of Lucifer's breathing.

Neither moved from their positions until Samael was well finished and his tears dried on his pale cheeks. Though the physical symptoms of sadness were gone, the heartache and gloom were very present in the forefront of his mind. Both of them knew that Samael could crumble once again at any moment; it was a fight of will to keep the tears at bay long enough to look up at Lucifer and give another weak smile, broken thoughts of gratitude passing to Lucifer through the despair. In acknowledgment, he nodded slightly and leaned forward to place his hand over Samael's gently. The gesture was so rare from Lucifer that Samael took advantage and leaned forward, himself, to place his forehead against the back of Lucifer's hand, smiling to himself.

In the dim light of his office, staring out at the tree tops with glazed emerald eyes, Samael focused on remembering how Lucifer's hand felt that night; the comfort he felt from that gesture, the strength to carry on he found in himself from such a simple expression. As much as he came to hate his other half now, he couldn't ever say it with conviction, for hating Lucifer would mean hating part of himself.


	4. Cracking Masks

The blinding sun reflected in Samael's vision and only just then did he realize it was morning. His vessel felt numb from sitting in the same position for so long; for once, the King of Time lost track of his name sake and had to glance at the grandfather clock across the room as he spun back around to face his desk. With a soft sigh to himself, he ran his tongue over his dried lips before standing up. Amaimon was due awake at any moment, if he wasn't already; Samael hoped for a peaceful day after a night with not even his usual hour of sleep, but no peace was ever granted with his younger brother around.  
Taking cautious steps away from his desk and towards the heavy wooden door that led to the hallway, his vessel was slowly waking from it's numb and dull aching soreness as he continued to move. After opening the door, he heard noises from down the hall, which were half expected, and headed in that direction. The sounds grew louder as he approached the kitchen and Samael vaguely began to identify them; water boiling, rummaging through the fridge, footsteps. Pausing at the entrance to the kitchen from the hall, he glanced around the room and, of course, found it in complete disarray. Which was honestly to be expected, as well. A hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose as a soft sigh escaped him, Samael only paused for a moment longer before striding confidently into the kitchen and snapping his fingers; the scattered dishes and empty bags being carried away magically to the sink, to be washed, and to the trash, to be thrown away, respectively.  
Amaimon only just now noticed his brother's presence and peeked his head out from behind the fridge door, some kind of food hanging from his mouth.  
"Oh- good morning, elder brother."  
He greeted in muffled Japanese as Samael waved a hand of dismissal and went to the boiling tea pot. Eyes gazing to the side as he reached to turn off the stove, he noted that tea cups were already prepared and promptly poured the boiling water into them before placing the kettle back onto the cooling top. The magical hands were finished picking up after Amaimon and the little Demon, himself, was blinking at Samael in a stupor. With a huff, Samael leaned back against the counter, arms folded across his chest, and stared back at Amaimon, waiting for the other to speak. It was a brief silence before Amaimon did, in a matter of fact tone.  
"You didn't sleep last night."  
Lips curving downward slightly, Samael adverted his red, puffy eyes as though he could feel the scrutiny Amaimon was conducting on them, and though Samael didn't answer with words, the silence was enough of a response for Amaimon to close the fridge door and turn to face the other fully now.  
"Paper work, again?"  
That would be Samael's usual response for not sleeping, and Amaimon would always believe him. But the look in Samael's eyes this morning told a different, deeper story that Amaimon couldn't grasp. Tilting his head slightly to get a better look at his older brother's face, his lips twitched in an almost nervous habit.  
"There was paper work to be done, yes."  
Samael answered after a moment, not telling the entire truth, but also not lying in the same breath. With a hum, Amaimon decided on believing him, as usual; he would gain nothing out of challenging Samael on this. Shrugging internally, the younger crossed over to the tea cups and stirred one almost thoughtfully, though nothing particular was on his mind. Reaching for the sugar on the same counter a few moments later, Amaimon spooned in a gluttonous amount of the whiteness into his tea before stirring again and taking a sip. Staying turned away from Samael who had brooded silently during this time, Amaimon stared blankly at the counter top while speaking. He was hesitant, unusually so, for a question he had just thought of sprung to his lips and now burned to be asked. Impulsive as usual, Amaimon put no tact into his words and spoke truthfully.  
"What will you do about him?"  
It was painfully obvious who Amaimon meant and Samael knew it well the moment he spoke. His jaw tightened and his breathing seemed to stop. Through all his pondering last night, he hadn't thought on the situation at hand just yet. Thinking over the night before again quickly to refresh his memory, Samael recalled the important details; Lucifer's intrusion at the festival, the kidnapping of Kamiki, the discovery of another spy, the Exwires attempting to 'save' Shima. Oh, yes; it had been a busy night for some. Resetting the barriers around the school didn't take as long as anyone had expected and, after sending the requested back up to the Exwires, Samael had too much time to himself to lament his memories.  
"Elder brother?"  
Amaimon's voice jolted Samael back to reality, his eyes that had glossed over in thought flicking up to his younger brother who now faced him with a curious look. Sighing to himself, Samael shook his head and waved his hand again before going over to his now warm cup of tea next to Amaimon. Beginning to spoon in significantly less sugar than the other had, he spoke evenly, putting on a flawless act.  
"The Exwires preformed just fine last night and today's objective is to catch everyone who wasn't at the festival up to speed."  
As he finished speaking, he crossed to the fridge, dug out the carton of milk and poured some in, stirring the contents while speaking again.  
"I'm sure once everyone is on the same page, defeating the Illuminati will be child's play~."  
Flashing a grin up at Amaimon, Samael winked and turned to walk out of the room.


End file.
